There is still snow on the road side,
It used to be pure white,
But it now has innumerable specks of dirt.
It is snow still, in mounds.
But mounds that are slowly and softly melting.
And I know that Spring is about to knock.
There is a forecast of snowfall, for the weekend.
We still need those caps, and mittens, and long boots.
But now, I can see that the sunlight is a tad yellower.
And that the day stretches just a few more hours before darkness.
And I know that Spring is about to knock.
The Winter began a long, long time ago,
Or so it seems.
We have since lined in full length coats and furry caps outside Walmart on Boxing Day,
We have since skied down several slopes.
We have picked, praised and plucked away Christmas trees.
We have shoveled heaps of snow from our driveways,
And we have marveled at the fanciful reality of the 'Polar Vortex'.
But now, I can breathe that the air feels less weighed down,
And I can see that the patches of green grass peep from under the slush of snow,
And I know that Spring is about to knock.
It used to be pure white,
But it now has innumerable specks of dirt.
It is snow still, in mounds.
But mounds that are slowly and softly melting.
And I know that Spring is about to knock.
There is a forecast of snowfall, for the weekend.
We still need those caps, and mittens, and long boots.
But now, I can see that the sunlight is a tad yellower.
And that the day stretches just a few more hours before darkness.
And I know that Spring is about to knock.
The Winter began a long, long time ago,
Or so it seems.
We have since lined in full length coats and furry caps outside Walmart on Boxing Day,
We have since skied down several slopes.
We have picked, praised and plucked away Christmas trees.
We have shoveled heaps of snow from our driveways,
And we have marveled at the fanciful reality of the 'Polar Vortex'.
But now, I can breathe that the air feels less weighed down,
And I can see that the patches of green grass peep from under the slush of snow,
And I know that Spring is about to knock.
